


But We Don't Feel Like Outsiders At All

by TheForgottenDreams



Series: I Said 'I Love You' [9]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Charity Festival, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oi, Blondie!” Musichetta called from the shady spot she’d claimed under a tree, not too far from the stage that they could hear 1832 running through their songs for a sound check. Marius, Éponine, Feuilly and Jehan were sat with her, since they had little to do now but wait for the festival to start. </p><p>“We have booze.” Éponine grinned as he flopped down beside her, gesturing to Musichetta’s designer bag that was filled with tiny bottles of alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But We Don't Feel Like Outsiders At All

 

“E, what’s your new song about? Courfeyrac asked him, eyes trained on the blond’s face as soon as he’d gone back stage after his sound check, still pumped up for performing even if only to the tech crew. “I need something to put into tweets for the festival tag to get more excitement and momentum going.”

 

“Revolution. It was taken from speech I’d written in a rush, Jehan picked out certain lines and threaded them together with music, we collaborated into making it and it was so much fun. It’s a commentary on pop culture, how its shaped us, made us unafraid of diversity and taught us to be more accepting. Of course, we’ve still got a long way to go, but we’re getting there and we need to celebrate the steps we’ve taken.” Enjolras answered as the brunet typed it down, he couldn’t stop himself jigging on the spot, high off adrenalin and happiness, “That enough?”

 

“Plenty, it’ll get the hashtags rolling.” Courfeyrac grinned, “I think Montparnasse was looking for you, he said something about a fashion disaster and lunch so it’s you or Jehan. But he is your stylist and you do have a performance later.”

 

“I’m not a fashion disaster.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “And he probably meant Jehan, the two of them are going to get to together by the end of the year.”

 

“My collection of embarrassing Enjolras photos beg to differ to your first point.” Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows, “But the second point is accurate for once.”

 

“Screw you.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“I tolerate you.” Enjolras deadpanned.

 

Courfeyrac mocked hurt and Enjolras slipped away, laughing as he went.

 

 

-

 

“Enjolras.” The voice emanated from Enjolras’ left, between two of the sound huts on the festival ground, he turned, feeling his face break out into a grin as Grantaire pulled him down the side, hands intertwined. He ignored the fact it was completely absurd to be this happy from one person.

 

“’Taire!” Enjolras felt so overwhelmed Montparnasse’s inevitable wrath at being late slipped his mind, too content to see Grantaire when he’d expected them to both be too busy to even smile at one another. “Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”

 

 “And I you, my Apollo. You sounded great up there.” Grantaire smiled, looking bashful beneath his curls, face slightly pink as he looked up at Enjolras, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

“It helped that I thought of you.” Enjolras laughed, pulling him closer, arms wrapping around the brunet’s waist.

                                                                                     

“Gods, you’re a cliché.” Grantaire grinned, holding tight to Enjolras despite the heat.

 

“You like me though.” Enjolras nosed his cheek, relishing in the closeness. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, busy with the charity festival in aid of Youth Music – a cause that helped teens have a shot at reaching for their dreams in the music industry, so the time they got together now was beyond precious.

 

“I do.” Grantaire answered with a laugh that Enjolras felt through his chest.

 

The brunet moved up onto his tip toes and captured the blond’s lips, kissing him slowly and sweetly. Enjolras hummed gently, enjoying the kiss as Grantaire’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, tickling the skin softly. He’d missed this. Enjolras pulled back to look Grantaire in the eyes, trying to convey his all his longing and affection through a glance. He pulled the brunet ever closer, inhaling his smell and savouring the feeling of the brunet against him.

 

“It’s been too long.”  Enjolras breathed, “Way too long.”

 

“I thought I could get through it without you, but I really can’t.” Grantaire confessed, looking up at Enjolras, he’d always loved the height difference, loved being taller than Grantaire who was at least a head shorter than him.

 

“I can relate.” Enjolras grinned, kissing him gently again. “Do you have a sound check soon?”

 

“Fuck, I do.” Grantaire looked at the watch tied to his wrist with string. “Five minutes ago, whoops.”

 

“Go, run.” Enjolras told him, laughter caught in his throat as he let the brunet go. Fighting his disappointment at the loss of contact.

 

“I’ll see you later, if it’s the last thing I do, okay.” Grantaire went up on tiptoes and kiss Enjolras’ cheek. The blond couldn’t stop smiling for a long time afterwards.

 

-                                                                                                                                                                                                      

 

“Oi, Blondie!” Musichetta called from the shady spot she’d claimed under a tree, not too far from the stage that they could hear 1832 running through their songs for a sound check. Marius, Éponine, Feuilly and Jehan were sat with her, since they had little to do now but wait for the festival to start.

 

“We have booze.” Éponine grinned as he flopped down beside her, gesturing to Musichetta’s designer bag that was filled with tiny bottles of alcohol.

 

“Did you sneak them in?” Enjolras asked, amazed.

 

“Yeah, I threw some other stuff on top and they didn’t go much deeper, help yourself.” Musichetta told him, leaning back on her elbows, hair falling down to touch the grass, sunglasses covering her eyes.

 

“I can’t unfortunately, being drunk on stage isn’t my thing.” Enjolras sighed. “God, Combeferre would have a fit if I went in like that.”

 

“Oh, I would so pay to see to you drunk on stage and to see ‘Ferre go sick at you.” Éponine laughed, the sound so uncharacteristic that Marius looked over at her from his conversation with Feuilly, something illegible on his face. “Is that bad? That’s so bad. Wow.”

 

“Luckily we love you for it.” Enjolras smiled at her.

 

“Are you singing _the song_?” Jehan asked from where he’d been braiding flowers into his hair, his floral shirt dress and DMs actually worked together unlike some of his more eccentric, but equally beautiful outfits.

 

“Obviously I’m singing _the song.”_ Enjolras grinned.

 

“Yes!” Jehan cheered, eyes bright Enjolras nodded back.

 

“Alright, I’ll bite, what is _the song_.” Musichetta asked, left eyebrow appearing over her huge glasses, hair falling in tight curls around her face, shoulders and back, squashed by the floppy hat on her head.  

 

“It’s like the only social justice song that actually fit and though it’s American based, I like it.” Enjolras confessed. “It’s about acceptance and chosen family, which I think fits really well, because you are all mine. I’m glad R argued with me at that festival because if not I wouldn’t have had all of you in my life and you all mean so much to me.”

 

“Am I going to get to record it? The song?” She asked, he knew her eyes would be gleaming that way they did when she wanted to record. She loved her job so much, it was clear through her skill and dedication, whatever she made sounded beautiful and her enthusiasm always made him want to record and make the best possible music he could.

 

“Hopefully.”

 

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, leaving a dark purple lipstick mark, “I can’t wait.”

 

-

 

“Alright, I’m Enjolras, some of you may have heard of me.” He grinned as his friends whooped and some of the crowd did too. The sun beamed onto the stage filling the summer day with heat and light, but despite that the crowd were still there, still wanting to watch him.

 

And yeah, he knew they were mostly there for the other acts but up there, with so many eyes on him he felt the familiar excitement on being on stage, of having so much attention on him and he knew he’d never get tired of this. This was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, concerts, albums, concerts again. Spreading his music, his words, his cause. He glanced to the side and saw the outline of messy curls that filled him with more confidence, he could do this, he had this. Hell yeah.

 

 “I have a YouTube channel if you want to listen to more of my stuff, but for now, this is something I actually wrote a while ago, but worked over it with Jehan – the best lyricist in the world - it’s called New Americana.”

 

And with that he started to sing.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so again this is to lengthen their relationship and make the fic feel less rushed. I tried to bring in Musichetta and Enjolras' friendship because I feel like the two of them would be this terrifying force of sass and curly hair.
> 
> This was taken from New Americana by Halsey and the previous one came from The 1975's song Girls - I forgot to add that in.
> 
> I also want to apologise for not working on my other fics - I've found I can only focus on one series at a time and I have to get this one out first. 
> 
> Thanks for reading it honestly means a ton, you can find me on tumblr at beelzebertha.tumblr.com


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